Jan 06, 2008

News broadcasters. They're a strange sub-strata of humanity. Charged with injecting current affairs into our brains at regular periods after meals, like some super news drug that needs to be taken with food, often imparting the worst information in the world that any of us are likely to hear. Is it any wonder they all go a little queer, if all they do day-in-day-out is dole out misery and despair to an already confused and terminally frightened populace.

"Quantel effects box jacked up on stoat tranquilisers."

And if that's not enough, those unlucky enough to anchor a broadcast have to sit there in the middle of what looks like a Bond villain's nuclear bunker, ducking random CGI headings as they're blasted around the studio, whilst the most inane, dumbed down, mushed-up facts are spoon fed into us by a Powerpoint jockey presenting pointless packages from ridiculous locations. Whether it's Huw Pym using a Quantel effects box jacked up on stoat tranquilisers to describe to us what a house is, or a Robert Peston piece on how the credit crunch really happened - presented using nothing but glove puppets whilst wearing only a thong, they really do have it bad. Open wide, here comes the aeroplane with this evening's headlines on it...

So you can almost forgive them for diving ankle first into any sort of camp frothy nonsense without a second thought. Usually it's the latest dull but worthy charitython. Back in the day it was Morecambe and Wise, or The Goodies. Now it's Doctor Who.

Who next then? Moria Stewart's out of a job at the moment. Too old to front a news broadcast apparently. Yet even she doesn't look as old as Kylie did in the Christmas special. Seriously how much did they spend on the prosthetics to make her look that old? I know she's been through one hell of a year but she's standing there in a maid's outfit with stockings and knee high boots and all I can think of, when she's holding a drinks tray, is what on earth is Mrs Overall doing in this? It was the Titanic that the show crashed into, not Acorn Antiques.

"At the end, it felt like I'd just sat a BTEC Diploma in BBC Sitcoms."

Although as the comedy stars (and someone from Tittybangbang - which isn't, despite Radio Times billing to the contrary, a comedy show - it's an expose of high altitude breast implant explosions) troop through the set and onto the rotating knives of death you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise. It's a case of, "oh! it's him from that thing who's married to that woman who can't cook", then it's "oh! it's him from that thing who's married to that woman who pretends she's posher than she is" etc... At the end, it felt like I'd just sat a BTEC Diploma in BBC Sitcoms.

"Profiteroles and honey glazed racks of Kerry Katona."

In early December I predicted Voyage of the Damned would be "all teeth, tits and tinsel - it'll be spectacle and little substance - it'll annoy the hell out of us and be loved by the masses". Of course, it got 12M plus viewers, but almost half that number had consumed such an excess of food that their body mass just fused with the sofa they'd slopped down in after eating their way through 4 Iceland stores worth of Profiteroles and honey glazed racks of Kerry Katona. They'd barely register as sentient life, let alone viewers. DFS could make a fortune from these new sofa people.

I'm off to Dawlish now with a pack of crayons, 40 stone of lard and a camera crew to put together another stultifying inane package for a flagship news programme on the global obesity epidemic.

Happy Bloody New Year.

The absolutely last and final ever entry in The Bumper Book of Made Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about Voyage of the Damned: in the first draft of the story the setting was to have been Dame Ellen MacArthur's yacht - until the BBC One controller stepped in as distraught women by themselves at Christmas was usually something that Eastenders handled and couldn't they come up with something that had at least 6 billion of something in it instead?

Dec 30, 2007

After lots of soul searching it is my sad duty to inform you all that Behind the Sofa - in its current incarnation - is coming to an end. It's been one hell of a ride, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has contributed over the last 2 and a half years. It's been emotional.

You have until January 7th, 2008 to post your last reviews and then this blog will be frozen for posterity. Don't worry, it's not going anywhere but new posts will not be accepted after this time.

But don't despair - on January 7th we'll also be announcing some news about the next phase of BTS and Tachyon TV. I can guarantee that it's going to be a very busy year!

Dec 26, 2007

Outpost Gallif.... er sorry... the Doctor Who New Page are reporting overnight viewing figures of 12.2 million (delivering a 50% audience share). The second most watched programme of the day (behind the episode of Eastenders that followed).

Although in the key demographic of Titanic survivors who worship Hitler and are devout Christians... the figures are somewhat less than spectacular.

Dec 08, 2007

The Airfix Players annual re-enactment of Logopolis took place in deepest Wales and was televised by The Money Programme on Friday December 8.

Their resident Adric, now into his 87th year playing the hapless numerical pestering buffoon, took to the stage with relish and very soon jotted down all the necessary vital statistics for the block transfer computations to take place, enabling the plastic chanters of Airfix central all the information they need to intone little replicas of the TARDIS - just in time for Santa to ram one in your stocking this Christmas time.

Dec 01, 2007

It seems to happen earlier and earlier each year too. The 08 Dec to 14 Dec Radio Times will be on sale from Tuesday 4 December, although some might have it on sale sooner (in the run up to Christmas TV guides usually come in much earlier than normal).

Nov 30, 2007

Take a slice of Goldfrapp, channel the spirit of the KLF, turn Murray Gold into a set of human sleigh bells, ram in some Grainer and a house key being dragged up and down a piano wire and you might have something that could wipe the grimace off of Simon Cowell's chops this Christmas.

Petition your local phonagraphic stockists now to sell the 7' vinyl and between us we'll beat which ever reality television wailing mentalists are unleased to seize the covertated Christmas number one spot.